Island of Clouds
by 177624601
Summary: For five years after that infamous weekend, Tim Murphy had to undergo psychotherapy. Even now, he still flashes back to the time in the kitchen. What happanes now when some friends of his get stranded on Isla Nublar? Please R & R.


Isla Nublar. Island of Clouds. The island may have been cloudy, but not my recollection of what happened that weekend on that tiny mass of land my grandfather bought from Costa Rica. That weekend when death reigned.

For five years they haunted my days and infested my nights. Even after half a decade of psychotherapy, they still seem a painful memory. Some nights I relive that famous crucible as they chased me and my sister through the Visitor's Center's kitchen. I feel my heart pounding, smell its rancid breath, reeking of 1,000 rotting carcasses; hear its horrible half-moon claws as they seemingly tap out some message to its partner. It's those nights that made every roommate I ever had move to another part of the dorm. It's those nights I wake up, drenched in sweat. It's those nights I wake up screaming.

To this day, I still picture them. Fourteen years later, and I'm still haunted by their cries. Some days I'll pass by a shrub and see those horrible, catlike yellow eyes piercing me. I'll instinctively look to the side, ready to catch the other one off-guard, only to find nothing at all watching me. You feel that warm summer breeze blowing across the back of your neck? I feel its hot breath as it lowers itself, ready to pounce on me. To this day I can't look at a piece of poultry without getting a victorious grin as I picture one of their kind lying dead before me.

It's June, now, and my junior year of college is will be over in a few weeks. Most of my professors are going easy on the homework. Saving studying for the weekend, I check my email as I decide chill in my dorm room for a few hours. Most of it is junk mail, but one from Dr. Grant catches my eye.

"Subject: Let's meet.

"I'll be giving a lecture at your school on why the Stegosaurus may have used its plates for mating in a week. I was wondering if you'd interested in be going? Maybe afterwards we could catch up over dinner, my treat."

Thinking quickly, I typed in a response. "Sorry, no. I lost all interest in dinosaurs fourteen years ago, no thanks to Grandpa. Dinner sounds good, though."

The week came and went, and before I knew it, I was waiting for Alan outside the lecture hall. I was just about to retire to my dorm when I heard a familiar voice ask "Tim?" Turning around, I see that same familiar chiseled face and dirty blonde hair.

"Dr, Grant. It's been too long." I state as I go up to shake his hand.

"Please, we're both adults, you can call me Alan. Any good places to eat around here?"

"Well, there's a little mom-and-pop Italian joint down the street."

"So, what have you been doing with yourself, Tim?" he asked as the waiter brought us our pizza.

"Well, Lex and I went through years of psychotherapy after…the event. It took Lex a little longer, she went through it for seven years, I just went in for five."

"Yeah, Ellie went through it for three years."

"Did you go through any?"

"For a few months."

"So, do you still talk with Ellie?"

"Oh, yeah, all the time. What about you, you still talk with anyone?"

"Ian and I kept in touch for a while, but we kind of stopped after Grandpa sent him on that search-and-rescue to site B."

"Same here. Do you still talk with John?"

"Of course, he's my Granddad."

"And Lex, how's she?"

"She's going through a bad divorce right now. Poor girl. She can't hold onto a relationship because of her flashbacks."

"Flashbacks to what?"

"Guess."

"Isla Nublar?"

"Yes, usually the kitchen."

"Hey, babe." I say as I snake my arms around the waist of my girlfriend, Erika Christensen, a fellow student getting her Masters in paleontology on the last day of school. "Whaddya got going on this summer?"

"Actually, I was just going to talk to you about that." She said, breaking away from me, her ebony eyes burning into mine as her cherry hair cascaded down her slender back. "I was wondering if you would like to go on a cruise with me."

"Sure, where're we going?"

"Isla Nublar, with some friends from paleontology." Replied my friend, Tommy Weston.

Blanching, I state, "No way am I ever setting foot on that island again."

"Baby," Erika replied, "we won't actually be setting foot _on _the island. Plus, we need a guide, and who better than someone who's been?"

"No! No way am I going back there, and neither should you! That island is dangerous! It's swarming with velociraptors, some of the deadliest creatures ever known! You don't know terror until you've felt those things chasing you as you blindly run through corridor after corridor, hoping that a fellow raptor won't jump out at you." Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I hear them chirping and shrieking again, I hear the clattering of pots and pans as one jumps up on the counter. I see it running headlong towards Lex before being taught a painful lesson in physics as it slams headlong into an oven.

A few weeks later, and I'm sitting in my old room in my mom's house playing some game on my laptop when I hear my cell ringing. "Hello?" I ask as I press the "talk" button.

"Tim, you've got to help us." Says Erika in a panicky whisper. "They're hunting us. We were caught in a storm and washed up here and…" she screams, and it's instantaneously clear to me why, for in the background is another scream that brings a cold sweat to my brow. It's a monstrous scream, an inhuman scream that haunted my nights every night for five years.


End file.
